“No judgment.”
He’d heard the rumors. Years of drugs and alcohol had taken a toll on her, making her look older than her years. Hitting rock bottom and clawing her way back up had settled a brittle sharpness about her that came out in the form of dark humor and a proclivity for speaking her mind as an activist.
As a boy, Stone had thought her the most beautiful woman in the world. Her character, Queen Seraphina of the Elves, wore robes of silver and gold that left her arms bare and offered tantalizing glimpses of her legs. She must have been so young then, her alabaster skin smooth and unlined, her eyes bright and determined, her voice clear and sweet. She’d been unknown before the first movie, and then suddenly, she was a star.
“My brothers and I carved our own wooden swords,” he told her. “I can’t tell you how many times we reenacted the final battle fromQueen’s End.My sisters fought over who got to play your character.”
Twyla giggled. “Oh, go on.”
“My older brother swore he was going to marry you.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “If he looks anything like you, tell him I’ll take him up on the offer. He’d make a great husband number three.”
“It’d be an honor to have you as a sister-in-law.”
Twyla puffed on her cigarette and gave him a long look, squinting at him through the smoke. “You’re a sweet kid, so I’ll give you some advice: Get the hell out of this business while you can, before it chews you up and spits you out like a piece of gum that’s lost its flavor.”
Her words sent a chill through him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’m sorry, kid.” She waved him away. “The prospect of dancing in front of a live audience tonight has got me in a maudlinmood. Go find your pretty little partner. That girl’s got enough good cheer for all of us.”
“You’re going to be great,” he said, sensing that she needed to hear it. “People are going to love seeing you perform again. You’ll see.”
Patting his arm with one hand, she lit another cigarette with the other. “Like I said, you’re sweet. Now go. Leave an old lady to her thoughts.”
He left her there and headed back into the main network of hallways. He passed Farrah Zane by craft services, where she filmed a video for her fans about how nervous she was and how much she needed their votes. He heard heavy kissing from a door left ajar, and spotted Beto Velasquez and one of the makeup artists out of the corner of his eye as he hurried past. By the empty judges’ table, the show’s hosts, Juan Carlos Perez and Reggie Kong, told dirty jokes, while football star Dwayne Alonzo stretched nearby. It seemed like everyone was looking for ways to burn off nervous energy.
Stone just wanted to get it over with. It was only dancing, after all.
He saw Gina speaking earnestly with one of the lighting guys, and had the sense to keep his thoughts to himself, lest she accuse him again of not taking this seriously.
Catching her eye, he pointed to the balcony, which would be filled with audience members soon. She nodded, and he went to find the stairs that would take him upward. He wanted a bird’s eye view of the “ballroom.” In reality, it was more like a theater, with a stage at one end, a circular dance floor in the center, and the judges’ table positioned opposite the stage. VIP seating crowded the edges of the dance floor, resembling a dinner club with plush chairs and small round tables. Rigging and lights hid in the shadows of the high ceiling, and regular audience members were confined to overhanging balconies.
When Gina arrived, Stone was lounging in a padded folding chair, overlooking the scene below as if he were in the audience. She looked stunning in the purple dress, and he wanted to compliment her, but he just patted the seat next to him. She sat, letting out a softsigh as her shoulders drooped. They watched Jackson and Lori work out the camera blocking down below, while the stagehands threw together a sparkly, lit-up platform in under two minutes.
“That’s impressive,” he said. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to build something so quickly.”
“It only has to hold up for thirty seconds,” Gina pointed out. “And they do this stuff every week—build sets, design lighting routines, and sync it to live music. Not to mention the magic done by wardrobe and makeup.”
“Wow.” He watched Jackson backflip off the stage. “To be fair, my producers often want us to spend as long as possible building stuff so they can draw out the story. And we always have to pretend something goes wrong.”
She smothered a grin. “Color me shocked.”
“Heaven forbid we should build something properly the first time.” He sighed and tried to put thoughts ofLiving Wildout of his head.
“We’re the eighth couple to perform. Fourth from the end,” she told him, turning the subject back to the premiere. “It’s a pretty good spot. People usually vote toward the end of the show, so going on later is best.”
“Who’s after us?”
“Farrah Zane, Rick Carruthers, and Lauren D’Angelo.”
Stone jerked his chin at the dance floor. “Jackson is really good.”
“He’s an actor. There’s a high likelihood he has dance training.”
Jackson had already admitted he did. “Isn’t that cheating? I thought the whole point was to cast celebrities who aren’t dancers.”
“No,The Dance Offsolicits celebs with all levels of experience, and there’s usually a ringer. But it’s not Jackson.”
